


The One with the Rope You Use for Trophies

by LozaMoza



Series: Moments [14]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Aftercare, Dom/sub Undertones, Established Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Face-Fucking, Fluff and Smut, OTP Feels, One Shot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rope Bondage, Smut, because Geralt and Yennefer, because we all know the real sub in this pairing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:28:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25958284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LozaMoza/pseuds/LozaMoza
Summary: Yennefer remembers Geralt's fantasy in Skellige. The one with the ropes...Geralt is very happy she does.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Series: Moments [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1806943
Comments: 29
Kudos: 92





	The One with the Rope You Use for Trophies

**Author's Note:**

> I blame this on all of you, you crazies. Enjoy!

The Witcher’s Dance. Even with the Path now a distant memory instead of a daily reality, there was always the Dance. It was a constant with witchering, one that was taught when a boy was old enough to hold a sword; one that will be with any witcher until his dying days.

Geralt may have retired from the Path, but he was still a witcher. His movements were fluid and smooth, his sword an extension of his arm. He kept the blade like a razor - he would never insult Vesemir’s memory by not respecting his steel and silver - and it sliced through the air with a deadly grace. At times, Geralt imagined it was cutting through the very fabric of time and space itself. Perhaps it was. Perhaps that was why he could focus on nothing else until the duet with him and his sword was complete. 

From the wooden post, a black kestrel watched with interest while the Witcher pirouetted and waltzed in the yard before it, dancing in time to a melody only the Witcher and the sword could hear.

*******

As he poured the water down his back to cool himself off, he heard a small sound. A black bird, sitting on the fence post, was currently engaged in preening its feathers. Of course he recognized the kestrel - how could he not? - and like always, a sense of irrational dread crept over him. 20 years later and the fear of losing her would course through his veins with such an icy finality that he could scarcely breathe. He couldn’t lose this. He knew he wouldn’t survive it. 

As quickly as it came, the fear faded. He knew Yennefer wasn’t leaving him and that this kestrel, like all the others she conjured, was just to send him a message. When she traveled, she would keep in contact by kestrel, unless their desire for each other got too great and she’d portal home and into his arms.

More often than not, she chose the portal.

Yet Yennefer wasn’t out-of-town now. Last he saw her, he was kissing her downy cheek as the first rays of light were streaming in from the east window. He preferred to practice in the yard under the dawning sun; the air was still cool and the light gentle. Yennefer actively avoided the sunrise as much as possible: a day starting at noon was a favorite retirement perk of hers. He nodded his head and the bird hopped over, stretching out its leg towards his hands. There, tied to it, was a tiny scroll. 

_ Stables... _ **_Now_ ** __

Geralt took off in a run. He cursed himself for not noticing the kestrel sooner. Was she alright? Was she injured? Why wouldn’t she just portal to him? A million horrors ran through his mind, each worse than the last, and he urged his legs to go faster to get to her. 

“YEN!!” he called out as he threw open the stable doors. “Yennefer, are you alright?!?” Silence. The dust motes, distrubed by the sudden change of air flow, swirled and sparkled in the late-morning light. The stable smelled clean and of fresh hay, and he noticed the horses were missing. Strange… His medallion vibrated slightly. “Yen?” he said again, less certain this time.

Without warning, thick ropes, their fibers worn, snaked down from the stable rafters. Geralt tried to fight them off, to grab his sword in defense, but it was to no avail; he had left the damn thing in the yard in his haste to get to her. He fought helplessly as they coiled around his wrists and ankles, anchoring him spread eagle between two poles. The tighter he pulled, the tighter they coiled against him. “YEN!!!!” he screamed, terrified of what could be happening to her as he fought pointlessly against his constraints. 

“My my, a witcher without his steel or silver. I fear retirement has made you sloppy, my love.” Her voice sounded from behind him. She didn’t seem in distress. On the contrary, she had that subtle lilt to her tone that told him she was enjoying this;  _ exceptionally  _ enjoying this. 

“Yen? What the hell is going on? Are you alright? Get these damn things off me.”

She came up from behind him and bit his earlobe sharply, only to soothe the sting with her tongue. He gasped. “But why would I do that?” she whispered. She walked in front of him now and the erection that started forming with her ear bite act grew rapidly at the site of her. Her lingerie was a complicated pattern of fine lace that matched the thigh-high stockings. It wasn’t only the design that sent Geralt’s head reeling and his cock straining at the laces of his britches. She was dressed in only one color: warm violet, the exact color of her eyes when she smiled. In the over two decades he had known Yennefer, he had never seen her completely forgo her favored dichotomy of colors, white and black. To see her in this… he ached to touch her, to run his hands all over her body. He reached for her, only for his lust-addled brain to be reminded that he was currently tied up in magical ropes. 

“Get this shit off me, Yen,” he growled, his voice low and rough. 

She smirked, trailing her fingers along his chest, down his stomach, and rubbing the head of his cock softly. “Again, why would I do that? I caught you fairly, after all. You’re mine now, Geralt, and I shall do with you as I please.”

His cock jerked again. “Yen…,” he groaned. She smiled and leaned into him, covering his mouth with hers, kissing him deeply, soothing him and inflaming him all of once.  _ He wanted to touch her so fucking bad… _

She pulled back slightly, taking his bottom lip in-between her teeth before letting it go. “I know how badly you want to touch me, Geralt. But since you simply cannot right now, I’ll need to take matters into my own hands, so-to-speak. With that she conjured her settee, a silk purple blanket thrown over it, and went to lay down. With one last crooked smile cast in his direction, she leaned her head back and snaked her hand along her breasts, squeezing her nipples and arching her chest into her hand before moving it lower, underneath the purple lacy of her lingerie, to her center. Slowly she began to move her hands in circles along her clit, moaning as she started to pick up the pace of her ministrations. Geralt watched in rapt attention, feeling his cock jerk against his laces with a painful clarity.

“Yen,” he growled. 

She was fucking her hand in earnest now. Her hips were writhing to meet her fingers while her other arm grasped the back of the settee for purchase. Her breathing was heavy, eyes closed tightly, mouth open, and Geralt could tell she was close. So was he. In fact, he was barely hanging on.

“Oh, Geralt!” she cried out and her hips snapped against herself, her voice a choked-off cry, and before he could do anything about it, he followed her over, groaning her name aloud as pleasure fired through his body. 

“Fuck!” he panted. He couldn’t fucking believe she made him come in his pants like a damn school boy, without even touching himself. Actually, he could.  _ Fuck he wanted her. _

Languidly, eyes almost sleepy, she turned towards him, eyes staring at the damp spot on the end of the outline of his still-hard cock, and she laughed. “Enjoy yourself?” 

“I’d rather be touching you right now,” he muttered, and she walked over to him. She took her hand, still wet with her slick, and touched the three fingers to his lips. He opened his mouth greedily, sucking them with abandon, tasting her orgasm, and he moaned. With a wave of her hand, both of their clothing vanished. He thrust his hips towards her, his cock playing with her folds, and he groaned impatiently. “Why do you have me tied up like this?” he finally managed to get out.

“It’s your fantasy, darling,” she sighed as she leaned into him, running her hands in his hair. He knew she enjoyed him teasing her as much as he did. He thrust at her again and her folds parted, the head of his cock stopping just outside her entrance. She let out a sharp gasp, pushed the slightest bit closer until he was almost inside her, then pulled away. “Stop tempting me,” she muttered and smacked him lightly. 

“How is not being able to touch you my fantasy?”

“Well, I may have modified it slightly,” she smirked. “Remember Skellige? Your delicious rope idea? I realized in the rush of those moments, we never got to explore that any further.” She ran her hands against his once-again throbbing erection and kissed him softly. He could only moan in response. “I thought I would rectify that.”

“I seem to remember the rope situation being slightly different,” his breath made a  _ pathetic  _ choking sound as she twisted her wrists around the head of his cock. He jerked in her hand, and she grinned as she smeared his precum over his sensitive tip. “You were the one tied…” he couldn’t even finish the thought, worrying once more he’d come all over himself. At least she was touching  _ him _ this time. 

“True,” she whispered in his ear. “Like I said, I modified it just a little.” She moved her hand away and stepped back. “But we mustn't push you too far, Witcher. You still have a lot of work to do.” He growled, and she quirked her lips at him. “I must say, the ropes really bring out the animalistic side of you.”

“Come back here,” he said in a low, gravely voice thick with need.

“And what will you do if I come back there, Geralt?”

“Anything. I’ll do anything you want.” It was true. Geralt never minded being at the mercy of Yennefer. He knew she loved these games, and fuck it if he wasn’t enjoy himself too, as his latest come-in-the-pants episode made obvious. But he wanted to touch her, to  _ taste  _ her… “Let me show you.”

Her eyebrows lifted, intrigued, and she removed the ropes from his legs. “Lay down.” He immediately kneeled, and the ropes tying his arms to the poles lowered enough for him to lay down. She didn’t remove them though. 

“Not taking these things off?”

“It wouldn’t be much of a rope fantasy without the ropes,” she laughed. “Besides, I have other ideas of how I want you to touch me.” She straddled him, coating his cock in her slick, causing him to whimper,  _ fucking whimper, _ in need for her, but she wouldn’t make it that easy. She moved up to his chest, his neck, and finally his chin, coating everything in her. “Mine,” she groaned at him, and before she could move again, Geralt tucked his chin down and pushed his mouth between her wet folds. Her scent came rushing to him and his mouth started to water. This wasn’t her perfume, but her, deep and rich and tangy, and he loved it. 

“Mine,” he growled in-between her folds. He felt her gasp and shudder, and he buried himself in her, his tongue making wide passes along her folds.

“Geralt,” she whispered, as she moved her hips against him, and he pushed against her, flicking his tongue against the sensitive bud. She cried out in earnest this time, hips grinding against his face. She was still flushed and swollen from her first orgasm, so he knew this next one would come quicker, and he wanted to push her over the cliff with such blinding pleasure she’d metaphorically fall apart on top of him. He thrust his tongue into her, listening intently to see what tore the loudest moans and gasps from her lips, and found it in a combination of pressing his tongue against her clit while his beard softly rasped the inside of her folds. She was shaking now, grinding furiously against his face, and he opened his eyes hoping to see her orgasm. He couldn’t - the angle made it impossible - but he did get a perfect view of the curve of her belly, the bouncing swell of her breasts, her erect nipples, the curling tendrils of her hair, and he felt an overwhelming sense of protectiveness go through him. He would to anything,  _ fucking anything, _ for this woman. Yennefer cried out, her voice sharp, and he tasted his success. She crumpled on top of him, shaking slightly, and she smiled. 

“I knew you wouldn’t need your hands for that,” she sighed lazily, and she turned to him. He knew how he must look, covered in her slick, splashes of precum on his stomach, his cock practically angry at the neglect it had received. She grinned. “What do you want to do to me, Geralt?”

“I want to pick you up and fuck you against that wall. I want to make you scream, Yen.” He was breathing heavy at the thought. 

“Think you have it in you to make me come again?” she teased lightly.

“Watch me.”

With that, she smiled and waved her hand. The ropes holding him vanished, and he didn’t waste his fucking time. He shot up, bent down to grab her, and carried her to the wall, kissing her deeply. She sucked his lips, tasting herself on him, and she groaned. He got to the wall and pushed her against it, ready to finally enter her, when she put her finger up. “One more thing,” she whispered, and a rope started coiling down from the rafters once more. 

Geralt shook his head. “Yen, I can’t properly do this tied up.”

“I know,” she whispered. “That’s why they’re not for you.” With that, she lifted her arms and the ropes snaked around her hands before stopping abruptly. Geralt knew the control she was giving up. With her hands bound, she couldn’t perform any magic. She was completely at his mercy. “I trust you,” she sighed, and she kissed him softly. The sense of protectiveness and love he felt moments ago crashed over him again, stronger this time, and he gripped her tightly, pulling her in for a deep kiss. 

“I love you,” he groaned, and he sank into her. Both of them cried out, desperate for that final contact, and when he started to move, she gasped for air. With the wall helping to support her, Geralt’s free hand roamed her body, caressing the soft skin of her hips, the gentle curves of her belly, the swell of her breasts and her petal pink nipples. She was moaning, and he could feel her tightening around him once again. He moved both hands to her rear, angling her for a deeper thrust, and redoubled his efforts, snapping his hips into her as deep as he could. She was screaming now, her body clenching around him, and he felt her release vibrating through her, cascading into his orgasm as well. 

“Fuck, YEN!!” he screamed as he came, long spurts of release coating her insides. She was too far gone to respond, and everything faded away for a moment, and touch became the only functioning sensation.

*******

Time started up slowly once more, fat and heavy, and their eyes fluttered open. “Let me help you,” he whispered softly as he untied the ropes around her hands. Her arms fell heavily around his neck and she moaned softly. He tried to set her down, but her legs were too wobbly to support herself, so he carried her to the settee and laid down with her, wrapping his arms around her tightly, her face buried in his chest. 

“Are your wrists hurt?” she whispered after a moment. She had been touching one and he involuntarily winced. He hadn’t even noticed the rope burn, undoubtedly caused by him pulling to get to her. 

“They’re fine,” he replied. She didn’t listen, instead taking his hands into hers as they lay together. She kissed his skin gently and Geralt felt a cooling sensation in both wrists, the skin reverting from an angry red to its regular pale hue. “Thank you,” he smiled, and he kissed her hair softly. He could feel sleep slowly start to claim him. 

“I love you too, you know. So very much,” she replied after a moment. 

He smiled, taking her chin into his hands, bringing her mouth to his for a chaste kiss. “I know,” he responded, and he pulled her into him once more.

They slept. 

**Author's Note:**

> And to think I used to be embarrassed to write smut!
> 
> Comments and kudos feed the writer! Thank you so much for taking the time to read this silly and sexy little one-shot. Let me know what you think!


End file.
